ur. 'Election dinners are a part of the Constitution':
and Andrew laughed: 'They make Radicals pay as well as Tories, so it's
pretty square.'

The topic was taken up, flagged, fell, and was taken up again. And then
Harry Jocelyn said:

'I say, have you worked the flags yet? The great Mel must have his
flags.'

The flags were in the hands of ladies, and ladies would look to the
rosettes, he was told.

Then a lady of the name of Barrington laughed lightly, and said:

'Only, pray, my dear Harry, don't call your uncle the "Great Mel" at the
election.'

'Oh! very well,' quoth Harry: 'why not?'

'You 'll get him laughed at--that 's all.'

'Oh! well, then, I won't,' said Harry, whose wits were attracted by the
Countess's visage.

Mrs. Barrington turned to Seymour, her neighbour, and resumed:

'He really would be laughed at. There was a tailor--he was called the
Great Mel--and he tried to stand for Fallow field once. I believe he had
the support of Squire Uplift--George's uncle--and others. They must have
done it for fun! Of course he did not get so far as the hustings; but
I believe he had flags, and principles, and all sorts of things worked
ready. He certainly canvassed.'

'A tailor--canvassed--for Parliament?' remarked an old Dowager, the
mother of Squire Copping. 'My what are we coming to next?'

'He deserved to get in,' quoth Aunt Bel: 'After having his principles
worked ready, to eject the man was infamous.'

Amazed at the mine she had sprung, the Countess sat through it,
lamenting the misery of owning a notorious father. Happily Evan was
absent, on his peaceful blessed bed!

Bowing over wine with the Duke, she tried another theme, while still,
like a pertinacious cracker, the Great Mel kept banging up and down the
table.

'We are to have a feast in the open air, I hear. What you call pic-nic.'

The Duke believed there was a project of the sort.

'How exquisitely they do those things in Portugal! I suppose there
would be no scandal in my telling something now. At least we are out of
Court-jurisdiction.'

'Scandal of the Court!' exclaimed his Grace, in mock horror.

'The option is yours to listen. The Queen, when young, was sweetly
pretty; a divine complexion; and a habit of smiling on everybody. I
presume that the young Habral, son of the first magistrate of Lisbon,
was also smiled on. Most innocently, I would swear! But it operated
on the wretched youth! He spent all his fortune in the purchase